


can i bleed inside your love

by Dream_edge



Category: Persona 3
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Minato's a little messed up in the head right now, Minato's constantly worsening relationship with the truth, Sensory Overload, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Touch-Starved, What if.... no one dies this time?, also featuring:, but you know what its fine, chapter length to vary WILDLY, he's working on it, its fine, like idiots, two dorks falling in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:56:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29926866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dream_edge/pseuds/Dream_edge
Summary: Yu and Ren try to rescue Minato from the Great Seal; they fail. With the whole Seal on the edge of collapse, the only thing they can do to save it is fold time back on itself and prevent the rescue attempt at all. Unfortunately for Minato, the two decide to send him much, much further back than he'd wanted.Back at the start of the best and worst year of his life, Minato can only move forward and attempt to do things better. Easier said than done-- its been so very long since he was last alive, he's not sure he remembers how to be.
Relationships: Arisato Minato/Sanada Akihiko
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	can i bleed inside your love

It took a few minutes for Minato to realize he was alive. 

In fairness, it had been a while since he last was; he'd forgotten what it felt like.

9 years. _9 years_ , nearly a decade, since the Fall, since he'd faded away on that rooftop; 9 years in the Seal, in that twilight half existence drifting from dream to dream. Watching his friends grow older, haunting the sidelines unnoticed. He'd grown comfortable, only truly existing in others’ dreams, until anything else was a pale memory and the Seal--

The Seal--

 _Tearing apart, collapsing in on itself, the very fabric of reality twisting around it. Protections slipped past, redundancy upon redundancy all picked apart and pushed aside like tumblers in a lock. And in the middle of it all,_ responsible _for it all, his wonderful, brilliant,_ idiot _kouhai, Yu guilty and already wincing in preparation for his anger, Ren smiling in the way he only did when he was riding the knife's edge of panic. And he_ \--

\--watched the stars through the window of the train car, content to let the current dream carry him where it would. The sky was clear, there was an almost familiar city growing steadily closer, and it was peaceful. He wasn't sure whose dream it was, only that it was oddly solid, didn't bend when he tried to push it. But that was fine, he didn’t really care, ~~better any dream than~~

He was fine, it was all fine. He could just sit here and watch the stars and breathe--

_\--he’d thought he'd have the chance to relax, to breathe again. Yu in college, Ren in his last year of high school; they hadn't needed his help anymore, didn't need half-remembered dreams debating strategy and mystery and time management and Persona. He'd thought that, in a few months, maybe a year, they'd forget him completely. And he could go back to his team, watch them live their lives with an echo of what might have been pride, if death and the Seal hadn’t taken clarity from everything he felt._

_So he'd let himself look away. He hadn't been watching to notice they hadn't forgotten him. Hadn't known to stop them until it was too late and the Seal was shattering around him; everything it was crumbling to pieces, bright and empty and--_

_\--_ He breathed.

 _Cold_.

Minato hunched forward, curling into himself, gasping erratically as the cold hit him for the first time. The air stung with the last bite of winter's chill, knives slicing into lungs no longer used to sensation. Everything narrowed down to that one feeling, until the too rapid expansion was all he could focus on. Why was it so cold; why did the cold _hurt_? He couldn't remember the last time he’d felt cold.

He couldn't remember the last time he’d _felt_.

Broken harshly from the content numbness that he'd been coasting on, Minato could only shake as everything else flooded in. The sound of his own ragged breathing, the roar of the train flying down the tracks, music pounding from his headphones, it all screamed against his ears; the fluorescent lights, the glare off the polished floor and handrails, made his eyes water until he slammed a hand across his face to block out the burn.

It hurt, it _all hurt_. He sat, hunched over, shaking, forcing himself to keep breathing; he wasn’t sure if the pain from the cold air or from the burn of starving lungs when he forgot to keep breathing was worse.

The Seal wasn’t a perfect afterlife, but it had never hurt like this before ( _ ~~it... hadn’t?~~_ ). What was going on, why did he--

Minato finally remembered.

The Seal. Yu and Ren. The doomed rescue attempt. The _solution_. 

Oh, he was going to kill them both.

Even the power of two fully-actualized Wild Cards, however determined they were, wasn't enough to change the nature of the Seal, of how he had designed it. Minato was the cornerstone, the Seal simply couldn't hold without him. They'd tried to pull him out and the Seal had broken. 

Apocalypse restarted. 

So Minato had been left staring at the two in that crumbling white space, frazzled and disbelieving and no time or energy to be angry, and no choice but to start planning. Two Wild Cards had not been enough to save him, but _three_ , in the unique space the Seal existed in, might be enough to undo their mistakes. 

The Seal existed, similarly to the Velvet Room, outside the usual flow of space-time, everywhere and everywhen, always. _Between mind and matter, dream and reality_ , as Igor had once said. That had been the only reason he’d been able to learn the slight step to the side that slid him into someone’s dream.

Backed by Yu and Ren, it should have been, perhaps not easy but certainly _possible_ , to fold them back along their own timelines, to before this ill-fated and ill-advised 'rescue'. If they never attempted it, the Seal would never break and everything would be fine. He'd be nice even, and never mention this particular lunacy again; no, he'd just keep a very, _very_ close eye on them both from now on. 

Minato pressed a hand over his eyes, breath hissing between his teeth as he fought the too sharp feeling of real air in real lungs. "Oh look," he muttered to himself, voice growing steadier as he adjusted to the sensation, "A giant _fuck off_ seal on the end of the world. Let's mess with it." He hadn't had time or energy or ability to be angry in the Seal's white void, but oh, he could now. " _Idiots_."

No--

Wait. 

This wasn't a dreamscape. Wasn't the emptiness of the Seal. He’d meant, he’d planned to only fold the three of them back a few days, enough to prevent disaster. He should have still been in the Seal. But he wasn't. Had they done something when he'd been focused on the folding, when, once again, he _hadn't been watching them_? 

Somehow they had pulled him out of the Seal in the middle of that mess, because this certainly wasn't that half-there existence he'd gotten used to over the last decade (he was out? he was out _he was out ~~tha~~_ \--). Where was he, that he felt so alive again? Where had they put him?

Minato raised his head, glanced through his fingers to squint at the rest of the empty train car. He knew this train; he knew that city just outside the window. _Where was he?_

The intercom clicked on; Minato held his breath.

_"Approaching Iwatodai station."_

No.

No no no no no _they hadn't_.

* * *

They had.

Iwatodai Station spread out before him, exactly as he remembered. The paper map to the dorm building was in his pocket, barely used yet. He could feel, faintly, if he focused, that very first seal Aegis had made, still binding Ryoji to him. 

He'd only meant for the three of them to go back a few days, maybe a few weeks, before the breaking of the Seal. But Yu and Ren had sent him all the way back, to before he'd even created it. All the way back to the beginning. 

Those two were going to wish he'd only kill them. 

Minato stared blindly forward, frozen in the middle of the train station, music still humming from his mp3 player. The paper map crinkled as his grip tightened. It was just… he couldn't...-- what had they been _thinking_? 

How was this supposed to fix anything? How would this not just end the same way as before? Did they expect him to just go through this horrid cycle for the rest of his existence?

Someone brushed past him while he stood unmoving; Minato flinched away, breathing in sharply. Heat flashed across the point of contact, almost burning; when it faded, chills appeared in its place. Too quick to know if it had even hurt, but he was still left shivering uneasily in its wake.

The thing was, he'd grown used to the Seal, and to his existence within it. It was a void and he was dead; all there’d been was that bright white nothing and dreams that, for however vivid he tried to make them, were hollow. It had been fine; he'd adjusted to the lack. 

He'd adjusted and now that void was gone. 

The station was so loud, near empty with the late hour but still more than he knew how to handle-- the low drum of voices, of trains running, of people moving about. The noise drove into his skull, bloomed into an ache behind his eyes. The lights pierced, a different kind of terrible brightness than the Seal, adding to that ache. And his skin still prickled, flashing hot and cold at the same time where he'd been brushed up against, a sensation he didn't know where to even begin processing. 

It was so much. It was _so much_ and he didn't know how to handle it. 

_Was it supposed to be this hard to breathe?_

Abruptly all that noise went quiet, light shifting, and the Dark Hour descended. 

Minato stood in the sudden stillness, gazing around at the half-familiar green light permeating the station. Most of that _too much_ sensory input faded with the change-over; he closed his eyes, took a breath, and strangled everything down. The disbelief, the anger, the budding hysteria, all of it. Boxed it all and shoved it away where it couldn’t touch him. He’d gotten so very good at compartmentalization since he’d become the Seal.

Then he began to walk. 

What else could he do?

It would have been almost funny, if he let himself feel it; here he was, same steps as a decade ago, Tatsumi Port familiar even in the Dark Hour's macabre light. Oh, he'd missed this stupid town. Later, it would hurt, when he let it. And after the hurt, maybe he’d even be able to appreciate what Yu and Ren had tried to do, and what they’d actually accomplished instead. 

But he couldn't just yet. He couldn't handle it, any of it, just yet. Even the smallest thing felt like too much. He couldn't face any of it if he wanted to move. 

And he had to keep moving. He had to be able to function, back at the beginning as he was. The Dark Hour had never been a forgiving mistress; personal problems were for the daytime.

Minato drifted through town, through familiar streets, until at last he arrived at the dorm. He stared up at the building, and despite himself, felt his eyes water. He took the three steps up to the door slowly, hesitated with his hand on the handle. 9 years since he’d walked out these doors to his death. He’d never expected he’d get to come back.

He’d already had so much to say goodbye to last time, to so many people and so many memories and so many possibilities for futures he wouldn’t get to have. He hadn’t let himself think about all the places he’d miss, that he’d come to love in this silly town. It would have broken his heart to carry any more loss.

He didn’t have a choice but to think about it now.

He’d missed being here. He’d loved being in the dorm, among all his friends, the sounds of the city just outside welcome and familiar. And he was back.

Minato blinked the wetness from his eyes, swallowed against an emerging pain that almost felt good, and entered slowly.

In the future, the dorm hadn’t seen much use after SEES disbanded, had sat near abandoned for years. He'd seen it once through Ken's dreams, the last time he'd visited him; it had been dusty, most of the furniture missing. He hadn't liked it, how hollow the old dorm had felt, empty and forgotten.

To see it now, clean and lived in, bloomed comfort and warmth even through the cold he was desperately clinging to. He guessed this is what it felt like to come home.

"Hey, you," a voice called to him, warm and soft. 

Minato's next breath shuddered out despite his best efforts. He turned slowly, looking at the blue-eyed boy leaning on the other side of the front desk. "Ryoji," he breathed, half disbelief, half relief. 

He'd expected little Pharos waiting for him, as he had been last time; maybe a small part of him hadn't expected anything at all-- Ryoji lost, again, _still_ , as unsavable as he'd always been. But no, there Ryoji was, slicked back hair and yellow scarf, watching him with a smile equal parts patient and sad. 

"Well, here we are again," Ryoji said. 

Minato took a deep breath and approached the desk. "You remember?" he asked.

Ryoji nodded. "We're still connected, you and I," he said and sounded more fond than angry he'd been dragged into the Wild Cards' mess. "Though not for much longer I think. I can feel Aigis' old seal pulling at me. Soon I'll be in pieces again. Won't remember a thing."

"Still, I'm glad you're here," Minato said, "I've missed you."

"Aww, you do like me," Ryoji teased, grinning wide, "It was kinda hard to tell sometimes." 

Minato laughed, weak and wet, ducking his head. Well, that was true, as much as he hated it now; that first time around, it had been so hard to connect, to let himself really open up to others beyond what the Arcana needed. At least, not until it had been too late and the world had been ending and it hadn't mattered that he was finally able to admit how much he cared. Just another regret he’d carried into the Seal.

"You okay?" Ryoji asked in response to the laugh. 

It nearly made him laugh again. Was he _okay_? The Seal had failed; his own kouhai, the boys he'd helped train, had been the ones to make it fail; he was back at the start of the best and worst year of his life; everything was so much, so sharp outside of the Seal, it bordered on agony; what if this wasn't enough, what if he couldn't change enough and he just had to keep doing this over and over; it hurt _it hurt_ and he didn't want to let it go, he didn't want to leave again; he couldn't keep losing all of this, letti ~~ng the Seal steal it all aw~~ \--

Minato smiled, small and soft and entirely automatic. "I'm fine," he assured. 

Ryoji watched him for a long second. "It's gonna be okay," he said, solemn, "You've got this."

"Know something I don't?"

"Maybe," Ryoji said, bright and teasing. Then he turned solemn again and pushed something across the desk to him. "Time to try again, yeah?"

Minato glanced down, hesitated when he recognized the paper. That goddamn contract. He signed it again quickly, like he didn't want to laugh hysterically. 

Like he'd ever really had a chance at all.

He looked up, found Ryoji watching him with a strange expression, and wondered if maybe Ryoji actually _did_ know something he didn't. Then Ryoji's whole body seemed to flicker for a second. 

Ryoi huffed. "All out of time," he muttered.

"For now," Minato agreed, “We’ll see each other again."

Ryoji's form flickered again, though it didn't seem to bother him. He just grinned back. "Can't wait to see what happens."

Another flicker, then, for a second, Pharos was before him, with that wide, unblinking stare. His head cocked to the side slightly, curious, almost bird-like. "Hello," he greeted. 

"Hi," he said back, smiling slightly at that familiar, well-missed face. 

Then, a blink, and Pharos and the contract were gone; from behind him, the sound of feet coming rapidly down the stairs. He turned to look and his whole chest squeezed tight. Yukari. His smile grew helplessly even as Yukari’s hand moved to hover over her Evoker. 

"Who's there?" she managed and, where last time he'd been frozen and unable to focus on anything beyond the gun, this time Minato could see her hands were shaking. Fondness crashed through him with all the softness of a lightning bolt.

Then--

"Takeba, wait!"

Mitsuru came down the stairs, put together as always, and that lightning bolt hit him even harder. 

Minato had never made it past 16; no matter how many years went by or what age the others dreamed themselves to be, he'd always been 16. He was, technically, the same age as the Yukari before him now. And yet, but god, she seemedso _young_. They both did.

A blink, and the Dark Hour ended. And there were his old friends, watching him without recognition. He ached, suddenly, sharply, to tell them everything, if only so he could explain how proud he was of them. Of how they would grow, of how much they’d accomplish. If only so he could say it and have them know it was really him and not just a dream they’d made up to soothe their grief and their guilt.

But he couldn’t. They didn’t know him and they weren’t actually his team yet.

He swallowed the urge down until it settled next to everything else he wasn’t ready for, where he’d be able to hold it close until it made sense to say. He swallowed it all down, the fondness, the warmth and pride, the helpless joy at the sight of them. He swallowed it down and did his best to mirror that lack of recognition, to go through the same motions he had last that he only half-remembered after all these years.

He thought he got through it without raising too much suspicion; at least, nothing beyond what he’d raised the first time he’d done this. Yukari left him at the door to his room, utterly unsubtle questions generally matching what he remembered. He watched her walk away for a second before hurrying into the questionable safety of his room.

Minato sat down on his bed, staring around his room. It was rather empty, devoid of the photos and mementos he’d previously gathered during his year there. He sat, stared, and thought.

They were so small. 

All of them were going to be so... small. A laugh bubbled out without his control, a little hysterical. 

Oh. 

This was all actually happening. He was _here_ , with the whole of the next year in front of him, waiting. He could change so much, do it all better; he could fuck it all up. He barely knew where to begin.

It was just so much.

He could protect his team better; what if he ruined them? What if, everything they should have accomplished, he did something to steal it all away?

Minato dropped his head into his hands. He couldn’t stop thinking about how young they were. How round Mitsuru’s face still was; how much Yukari’s hand had shook. It was terrifying; it was almost enchanting. He knew they weren’t breakable, they were all so strong, but still, he looked at them and saw _children_ and wanted nothing more than to keep them safe.

Ken’s voice echoed in his memory, _“You know, this will be the first year I’m older than you.”_ For a second, Minato closed his eyes and remembered that dream. How the illusion of the dorm had fallen away under Ken’s scrutiny for how it actually was-- dusty, dark, most of the furniture already removed. Like no one had touched it in months. A clean line through the dust on the front desk where Ken had trailed his fingers.

He remembered the way Ken had looked at him, sad and tired and so _old_ for 17, when he said, _“I don’t want to dream this anymore.”_

Minato sighed and let himself fall sideways onto the bed, burying his face in the pillow. He didn’t want to think about that; he didn’t want to think about any of it. Not right now. 

He still had time. He could rest for now and just let it all settle in. He closed his eyes and did his best to fall asleep.

 _It was bright, cold and empty and hollowing him out, slipping into all the cracks it had made; pressing in, inescapable, and he wanted to, he wanted out, he didn’t want to be_ \--

Minato snapped his eyes open, shivering full-body. He rolled over so he could stare around at his dark room, so different from his dream. He couldn’t have been asleep for more than a few minutes.

Even out of the Seal, so far from its creation, he still couldn’t escape it. It was still following him. Minato huffed out a breath, wished for more energy than he had so he could feel something more than just resigned acceptance. He knew there was no getting away from the Seal; it was the only way to beat Nyx. By April, he’d be back there.

Still, he couldn’t even get a break in the time between? He had to dream of ~~that wre--~~

He had to dream of it too, of course.

He couldn’t go back to sleep. He couldn’t dream that again. 

Fine. He’d been dead for 9 years; surely he could go a few nights without sleep. He’d more than had enough already.

* * *

There were 3 days until the next full moon.

Minato had 3 days to get himself together, until he would have to stand before the others as a Persona user and teammate. 3 days to adjust; to get used to the tight, loud press of people in school and on the trains; to figure out how not to flinch every time something was too much after the void of the Seal; to learn to ignore the way his skin crawled when someone brushed against him; to get through a day without sinking into himself and going numb just to avoid the crushing press of sensation.

3 days to plan out his next few moves, get an idea together of how he wanted to approach the next few days and all the months that would follow. The first time around, he'd done his best but he'd barely kept his head above water, barely managed to roll with the blows; he'd done his best but there were more than a few things he wished he'd somehow managed to do better. Now he could. The sheer breadth of possibility was breathtaking, left him lightheaded and shaky.

He went through it all, writing down as much as he could remember, everything he wanted to change: Shinjiro, Takeharu Kirijo, Chidori and Junpei's grief, Ryoji. So many possibilities, he felt a little dizzy just considering it. 

He drifted through the three days; he did his best to pay attention to what was actually happening but between sensory overload, the nauseating press of deja vu, and the furious rush of trying to plan out the next year, he knew a lot slipped by him. School notes blurred randomly into half-formed ideas for specific events or Shadows, written in the code he’d once watched Ren develop for the Thieves. He spent his afternoons pretending to study in his room while he considered how exactly he wanted to present himself, aware SEES was already watching him and there was a chance any irregularities would be noted before he even started.

Sometimes, he let himself daydream enough to plan a speech, maybe just a note even, explaining things to the team. What he’d say come January, come April, and he’d have to leave them again. All the things he’d come to wish he’d said last time. He didn’t write any of it down, couldn’t bring himself to put down all the explanations and apologies he’d hoarded for a year even in code.

Sleep remained out of his grasp. He tried; when he managed, it was only to snap awake after a few minutes, having barely fallen asleep at all. Something about the feeling of drifting off, slowly losing consciousness, set off his fight-or-flight, and he woke again in a cold sweat, heart racing. 

(He'd fallen asleep on that rooftop, warm and at peace, and he'd never woken up and--

He wasn't thinking about it.)

And when he did fall asleep, body too exhausted for even that gut punch of adrenaline to keep him awake, the Seal was there, waiting. Which-- it was fine, he was fine; he'd existed in the Seal for 9 years, he could handle it for a few hours at night. 

So, he was tired. He was overwhelmed. He had too many plans for what came next but little concretely decided. 

It wasn't all bad though. There were always up points. 

Junpei, so easy to fall back into friendship with. Yukari and Mitsuru, already welcoming him back to the dorm after school, settling something unmoored deep in his chest. Flashes in the school hallways, of a red vest or green hair, of Chihiro not quite hiding or Bebe muddling through Japanese signs. 

He had to keep stopping himself from approaching all of them, had to remind himself they were currently strangers. Even through the overwhelming sensory input, seeing all of them like this caused an undeniable giddiness. It made the rest of the mess worth it. 

So, he had 3 days. He could do it. 

In 3 days, he'd be ready. 

* * *

The full moon shone through his bedroom window. Trained instincts that being dead for 9 years somehow hadn't killed had Minato on the edge of fight-or-flight practically as soon as the sun went down. He ignored it as best he could, sitting down at his desk and doing his best to study. He didn't bother preparing for bed that night, had no wish to go running through the dorm in his sleep wear again; at least his insomnia was already a well established fact, so hopefully no one would question it too much later on. 

So he tried to work, one eye on the clock, the other on the street outside; tried to appear calm for the cameras he knew would still be watching, for all his heart was starting to pound, hard and fast. 

At 11:45, he spotted Akihiko's distinctive red vest disappearing down the street, heading deeper into the city for the Dark Hour. _Typical_ , he thought with amused fondness. 

15 minutes later, the Dark Hour fell. He sighed as his desk light cut off, leaving the room much too dark to continue studying. He closed his book, stood, and began a series of light stretches, working out the tension from hours of sitting in preparation for the upcoming fight. 

He didn't know exactly how far into the Dark Hour the attack would happen, so he was just going to have to wait. He knew the others were, if not still actively observing him during the Dark Hour, at least recording him; that particular revelation last time had been… disquieting. Knowing it was happening now, he could at least amuse himself imagining them taking in his blase reaction to the Dark Hour. Let them wonder about it for a bit. 

Minato smiled to himself as he cleaned up what little mess there was in his room. He'd missed being able to mess with his team. 

Some time later, he caught sight of Akihiko running back, arm hanging limp at his side; he made a show of peering out the window at him, giving himself a moment to focus, go over what he wanted one more time. Downstairs, he could hear the front door slam open then closed again. 

He didn’t want to do anything major this time; he didn't want to pull the timeline completely off the tracks just yet. He just wanted to see that he _could_ change something, even a small thing. Just… there was this tiny voice whispering in the back of his head that _nothing_ could be changed. 

He couldn’t change _everything_. He knew that, he’d accepted it, he’d long made his peace with the Seal. but some things he could change. Some things he _had_ to be able to change, or he thought he might just lose his mind. 

He took a deep breath, ran a hand through his hair, shoved his shoes on, and hurried out of his room. He raced down the hall, took the stairs two at a time until he could hear the others talking. "What's going on?" he demanded, slowing to a stop on the stairs and peering across at the group by the door. 

He looked over all four of them quickly. Mitsuru, Yukari, Akihiko, and--

Minato felt his mouth curl slightly before he managed to choke it down. _Ikutsuki_. Right, of course. He’d already met the man, forced himself to be polite, though he’d probably missed pleasant by a mile. 

Ikutsuki’s betrayal still stung, the memory of Mitsuru’s grief sour on the back of his tongue, a failure he’d never forgiven himself for. And all he could do right now was ignore it. He wanted to scream. He wanted to make Ikutsuki _hurt_.

Instead he swallowed the rage down and focused on his team. Did his level best to ignore Ikutsuki.

They stared back at him, wide-eyed with surprise. "Arisato?" Mitsuru asked, "What are you doing awake?"

"I'm always awake," he answered simply. He walked swiftly across the lobby to stand between Mitsuru and Yukari, slid into place in the circle they made. The stress built up over the days of thinking and planning eased away at being back here, among his team, among his friends. It seemed suddenly easier to even simply breathe.

He glanced down at Akihiko, wincing a little when he saw the awkward way he was holding his arm, the bloodstains just visible in the poor lighting. "Are you okay?" he asked. He'd never seen the original injury, only the healed aftermath; it was worse than he'd been expecting. 

Akihiko gapped up at him. Whatever he was about to say cut off when the whole building seemed to shake. 

"What kind of Shadow is this?" Yukari demanded, gazing up at the ceiling in shock. 

"Akihiko and I will handle it," Mitsuru said firmly, "Takeba, take Arisato and the Chairman out through the back entrance, make sure they're safe."

As if to underscore her words, the front door shuddered, making Akihiko wince. 

"Right," Yukari agreed, nodding and pale. She looked over at him, lips pressed into a thin, pale line; Minato recalled how her hands had shook just a few nights ago with a quiet ache. 

_She's so young_ , he thought again. He wished he could tell her, explain somehow, how _bright_ she was going to be one day. A supernova all on her own. 

"Follow me," she said and Minato ignored the slight tremble in her voice. Yukari turned on heel, moving quickly through the lobby for the other door. Minato followed her across the room, gritting his teeth when Ikutsuki fell into step slightly behind him. He did not like that man at his back; his fingers twitched for his sword, for the familiar weight of his Evoker, for the feel of Ikutsuki's bones snapping beneath his hands. 

_Soon_ , he thought acidly, feeling the man's eyes on him. He didn't turn around to snarl at him, though he wanted to. 

Last time he and Yukari hadn't gotten any further than the kitchen door; this time, they managed to get into the kitchen, halfway to the exit when the door flew open and small Shadows burst in. Yukari screamed, short and sharp in surprise; she brought her bow up and slammed it into the face of the one charging her, knocking it away. 

Minato had enough time for a burst of pride at the quick reaction, then he ducked forward and grabbed Yukari about the waist, yanking her out of the way of another Shadow. It was, thankfully, a small kitchen and a smaller door; not very many Shadows could enter at once, so they couldn’t be completely overwhelmed. “We're cut off," he said and, without waiting for a response, turned himself and Yukari bodily around. She didn't protest in the slightest. 

They rushed back through the kitchen into the dining room and lounge. The front door was open, Mitsuru and Akihiko still on the steps trying to fight their way back out. Akihiko leaned against the door frame, Evoker barely wavering from its place at his head, bad arm hanging limp; Mitsuru stood slightly in front, covering for his injury as best she could.

“Mitsuru-senpai,” Yukari cried, hurried a little ahead of him. Akihiko’s head snapped around to look at them. “They’ve gotten around back!”

Akihiko cursed; Mitsuru turned to look at them, body going rigid. Last time Minato would have missed it; now he knew them both well enough to see their panic, and how much they were trying to hide it. “Takeba, just, just take them upstairs,” Mitsuru shouted back, “Protect them until we can handle this.”

Sound caught Minato’s attention. He turned slightly, looking back the way he’d come. They’d closed the kitchen door behind them, but it wouldn’t take long for the Shadows to break through. A matter of seconds really. He watched the wood of the door fracture around the handle.

The world slowed. Minato looked at Ikutsuki next to him, facing away from the kitchen door, and thought very quickly.

Ikutsuki couldn’t fight, had no Persona. If a Shadow attacked him, he would have no defense. No one else had noticed the door breaking yet; no one else would in time. Minato could just… do nothing. He just had to step to the side and let it happen. Ikutsuki could fall right now and only Minato would ever know of his potential treachery.

After all, as far as the others knew, Minato didn’t have a weapon, hadn’t unlocked his Persona, and certainly didn’t know how to fight. They wouldn’t expect him to be capable of saving Ikutsuki. No one would question it.

Ikutsuki could die now. So much would be avoided. No one had to know.

Minato shifted his weight back onto his heels, still staring at Ikutsuki, the noise of the door breaking echoing in his ears.

But, he thought, Ikutsuki had been the one to point them towards the full moon Shadows, to give the team that purpose. They needed Nyx to Fall in order to end the Dark Hour at all; they needed Aigis’ seal to break in order for Nyx to Fall; they _needed_ Ikutsuki to point them at the full moon Shadows in order for any of that to happen.

Maybe, _maybe_ they’d catch onto that on their own. But how long would that take? What would happen instead, without that goal to drive the team? Could he predict it? Enough to control it? To protect his team, do it better?

No, Minato decided, that was too different a timeline to manipulate successfully. He needed Ikutsuki for just a bit more.

He rocked forward quickly, grabbed Ikutsuki at the lapels, and, as the door broke inwards, yanked him back out of reach of the Shadows.

There were screams around him, from Yukari, Ikutsuki, even Akihiko’s startled shout. Minato ignored them, all but threw Ikutski out of the way, and kicked the closest Shadow. The kick landed solidly at center mass and the Shadow dissipated immediately. “Keep pulling back,” he ordered firmly.

Ikutsuki immediately skittered away. Minato waited a second, listened for the familiar sound of Yukari’s bow creaking, then turned and ran. An arrow flew past him, followed by Yukari’s sigh of relief. Ikutsuki was already at the stairs; Minato paused in front of the bathrooms to wait for Yukari.

She hurried to him and, without a word, they turned as one to head for the stairs.

There was, from the front door, a sharp, high cry of pain ( _Mitsuru_ ) and Minato didn’t hesitate before he spun back around. Akihiko and Mitsuru were still at the front door; Akihiko had his bad arm around Mitsuru’s waist, supporting her, trying to drag them both back into the safety of the dorm; Mitsuru was clutching her Evoker and rapier, Panthesilea and Polydeuces glowing beacons in front of her even as they retreated. There was blood flowing in thick rivets down her leg.

Minato’s heart skipped a beat.

Had she gotten that injury last time? Had he changed it, distracted her? 

He wasn’t sure.

He ran, ignoring how Yukari called after him. He raced back into the dining area, ducked beneath the high sweep of one Shadow, propelled himself over the corner of the table to avoid another. He grabbed a chair from the table as he moved, ducking back into the lounge and racing for the front door.

Akihiko dragged Mitsuru back and to the side, resting against the wall next to the door. The Persona faded and the Shadows surged forward through the door. The first one through was a Grieving Tiara, Minato recognized as he reached them; he swung the chair he’d grabbed up, slamming it full into the Shadow, breaking it. The Shadow didn’t dissipate like the Maya he’d kicked, but the force sent it flying back. Minato did a quick hop-skip to bring himself back out of the door way and Mitsuru didn’t hesitate before slamming the door shut, lock clicking to place.

Minato dropped the shattered back of the chair, shared a look with the other two. Akihiko and Mitsuru straightened off the wall, joined him in moving away from the door, which was once again shaking beneath the weight of the Shadows. “How’s your leg?” Minato asked quietly.

“Fine,” Mitsuru answered. Her jaw was clenched, lips white, but she was standing straight, not favoring either leg. Akihiko was rolling his bad arm, grimacing but no longer protecting the injury either, not with how bad the situation had gotten so quickly; the skin around his mouth was too pale, tight lines around his eyes-- the very first warning signs that someone was overusing their Persona. Oh, of course Akihiko was stretched thin already; he’d already spent the whole Dark Hour fighting in town. 

Minato shifted, turning to face behind them, letting them watch the front door. Shadows were still trailing in from the kitchen; Yukari was sniping them from the stairway, standing in front of Ikutsuki, expression grim. 

“7 inside,” he counted, “Maybe more upstairs.”

“And Takeba?” Mitsuru asked, not turning to look to confirm it for herself, trusting that he was telling the truth.

The situation demanded that kind of trust from her right now, but it still warmed him to have. “Secure,” he reported. Double-checked before he added, “Quiver’s still over half-full.”

There was a quiet breath of relief from them both. Minato’s lips twitched upwards in a brief smile.

“But _we’re_ surrounded,” he added, eying the Shadows spread through the dining room and moving into the lounge. She was trying, but Yukari simply couldn’t fire fast enough to take them down at the rate they were entering.

“The door’s not going to hold,” Akihiko added, “And I haven’t seen the big one again yet.” 

“Great,” Minato said dully.

He looked over the Shadows again. Mayas, Tiaras, and Hands mostly, nothing that should have been an actual threat. But both Akihiko and Mitsuru were injured, Yukari wasn’t confident with the Evoker yet, and he didn’t have a weapon. And 7 Shadows all at once was a lot, especially with the level of training they were at currently. 

_This really is going_ great, he thought.

The door cracked ominously. Minato winced. “We need to head up, get out from between them.”

“Head to Takeba,” Akihiko ordered, “We’ll watch your back.”

“But--” 

The door flew inwards. They hadn’t managed to retreat far inwards, not with the Shadows spread through the dining area, so they had to scatter away from the first wave of new Shadows. Minato rolled deeper down the hall towards the stairs, frowning when he felt the brush of a just dodged attack. That had been… closer to hitting than he’d assumed.

He rolled back up onto his knees facing the front door. Mitsuru had pressed into the area next the front desk, back to the wall as she slashed at Shadows; Akihiko had dodged in the other direction, out into the open area near the couches. 

Minato hissed, glancing between them, then decided. “Yukari,” he called back, “Cover Mitsuru-senpai. Mitsuru-senpai!”

She glanced over at him, whites of her eyes showing. 

He held out one hand. “Sword!”

Her face tightened in reflexive refusal, followed by the smallest pause and a quick look around at the situation. She struck down another Shadow, looked back at him, clearly and obviously weighed his worth. Minato merely looked back, hand outstretched, waiting. She nodded. 

Mitsuru dropped her sword, caught it on her foot, and kicked it out towards him. In the heartbeat of time between her dropping the sword and pulling her Evoker, where she was completely defenseless, an arrow raced forward and shredded through an approaching Shadow.

There was no time to glance back and praise Yukari’s quick bow work, though he made a quick mental note. He surged back to his feet, grabbed up Mitsuru’s sword as he moved, and headed for Akihiko. Akihiko was backing towards the wall, forced there by the surrounding Shadows, two in front of him, three more coming in from the right. 

Minato thrust the sword through the back of the closest Shadow, stumbled slightly as it dissipated, then spun to hack through the second. It took three strikes to destroy the second, as he wasn’t able to put all his weight behind them. By the time it disappeared, he turned to find Akihiko had also finished dispatching two, leaving one left.

As Akihiko paused to catch his breath, obviously pained, Minato moved forward; a twist at the last second brought him behind the Shadow and, while the movement was nowhere as quick or smooth as he was used to, he was able to slash his sword up across its back. It shrieked and turned to face him, allowing Akihiko to slam a punch through the back of its skull.

They shared a look over the fading ash, then turned to face opposite directions, Minato towards the kitchen, Akihiko towards the front door. “Mitsuru! They keep coming!” Akihiko shouted.

“I know!” Mitsuru shouted back. She had backed down the hall towards Yukari; the two stood next to each other just before the stairs, Ikutsuki several paces up behind them. Mitsuru raised her Evoker and, as Panthesilea shimmered back into existence, she paled noticeably beneath the strain of repeated summonings; Yukari’s quiver was starting to look worryingly empty. “We just have to make it to the end of the Dark Hour. That’s all.”

“And how much longer is that?” Yukari demanded.

“3 minutes, 46 seconds,” Minato answered immediately, ignoring the looks he got.

“That was exact,” Akihiko said.

“I have a very good internal clock,” he responded. 

Minato surged forward, slashing through another Maya that got too close. He grit his teeth on frustration as he stumbled through the foot work leading into the third strike. He hadn’t had time to notice before, but, for his mind remembered the coming year and the 9 that followed, for his body this really was the first time around. All the strength he’d gained, the balance, the unthinking footwork between strikes, gone. Not yet learned. He hadn’t before but he was certainly noticing now. He felt so slow, so clumsy. He knew what he wanted to do; it just wasn’t translating well to the rest of his body. 

He fell back to his original position, eying the Shadows still spread through the dining room.

3 and a half minutes was a _long_ fight. Yukari and Mitsuru were running low on resources, Akihiko was injured, he himself only had a sword. 3 and a half minutes was _too_ long a fight as they were.

He glanced back at Akihiko. “Regroup,” he ordered. Akihiko nodded, taking a few steps back towards him, keeping an eye on the Shadows still in front of him. Minato pushed into the dining room, hearing Akihiko slowly follow, trusting the other boy to watch his back. One, two more Shadows fell, Minato having to awkwardly dance around them as they swooped over the table. Akihiko matched him every step, beating down any Shadows who came at them from behind. 

The stairway wouldn’t give them much room to maneuver, but if they could just get to the girls, they’d be able to take some of the pressure off them. They could trade off fighters in the small space, prevent anyone from tiring too soon. It would have to do, considering what a mess this had become so quickly.

Well, he’d wanted to see if things could change.

Minato glanced back over the others. Akihiko was starting to flag more noticeably, pain visible in the way he hunched into himself when not actively attacking; Minato didn’t like to think about how much he might be worsening his wound. Yukari was focused, caught in the rhythm of _notch, draw, release_ but the muscles in her arms were pulling tight, aim slipping as she shook from overwork. 

Mitsuru bent over as Panthesilea faded, gasping in ragged breaths. Yukari moved immediately in front of her to cover her, allow her to shuffle back and catch her breath. It left their left flank open for Shadows coming in from the dining room. Minato cursed, knowing he’d be slow to make it to them and if he tried to rush through it would just leave Akihiko open.

An arrow went wide, Yukari’s bow arm shaking too hard. She looked around wildly, taking in the situation, and finally drew her Evoker. She pressed it to her head, then seemed to freeze, whole body starting to shake instead of just her arms. 

Shadows pressed closer.

“Yukari, _drop_!” he shouted, firm and unyielding, in the tone he’d spent a year figuring out how to get just right, the one that cut right through the din of a fight, that demanded others _listen_. 

Yukari dropped, immediately and without thought. Minato winced a little, watching as she fell in a barely controlled, utterly uncoordinated flop, bow and Evoker skittering out of her hands. But the Shadow missed her.

Despite her exhaustion, Mitsuru was there immediately, whipping the butt of her Evoker into the Shadow. It didn’t do much damage, but it bought Yukari time to flip back over. Yukari grabbed one of her few remaining arrows and stabbed it forward into the Shadow while her other hand fumbled blindly for her dropped bow. She managed to grab it and smashed it into the Shadow, killing it. The force she put behind the blow threw her forwards onto her knees and she sat there for a second, gasping in panicked little breaths.

Minato broke through the last of the Shadows into the stairwell, Akihiko right behind him.

“Are you okay?” he asked them both.

Yukari nodded, though the expression on her face didn’t agree. “We’re fine,” Mitsuru added.

Minato looked down the hall towards the front door, eyed the Shadows still spilling in. Glanced towards the kitchen, though Akihiko had turned to watch that way as well; not as many from that direction any more, but still a few. Then he looked down, found Yukari’s Evoker still on the ground. He looked up and around one more time, took in the Shadows, the dorm, his flagging team; pressed mental fingers to where his Persona rested against his soul. The wide expanse of Persona he’d once had were all gone, all except for three. He brushed over each quickly, considering, planning. 

_Messiah, Thanatos, Orpheus_.

He decided.

He snatched up Yukari’s Evoker, glanced back at Mitsuru. “Sorry about this,” he said, then raced down the hall into the lounge.

“Arisato, wait!” Mitsuru called after him.

He ignored her, ducked around one Shadow, carved through another, and skidded to a stop next to the front desk. He raised the Evoker, breathed deep, grinned. Pulled the trigger.

“Orpheus!”

Orpheus appeared in front of him. 

Minato’s ears started to ring.

Orpheus flew forward, one hand drawing his harp. His free hand grabbed one of the Maya then effortlessly through it back out the front door. The harp came down, slamming through first one then another Shadow without pause. Orpheus twisted, swinging the harp one more time into the sides of the Shadows, sending them flying; one following the first out the door, the second smashing through the window into the street. Minato winced a little at the sound of breaking glass, at yet another piece of the dorm being destroyed.

He was really starting to regret leaving his room.

Still, he was already in the middle of this mess.

He glanced around, found the lounge clear of Shadows, three more still in the dining room. He shifted to face them, then heard the oddest noise. A skittering sound, and the clittering of metal, coming in from the front door. _There you are_ , he thought.

Orpheus threw the harp; it collided with two of the Shadows in the dining room, dispersing them beneath its weight. Minato left the final Shadow to the others, turned and ran through the broken front door. He exited onto the street, glancing around.

The three Shadows he’d thrown out were still there, slowly peeling themselves off the ground; two more close by that hadn’t made it inside yet. There were more a ways down the street, not close enough to be a threat.

Minato raised the Evoker again, called Orpheus once more. The street washed in fire; the Shadows burnt away in the inferno. Minato let his hand drop back to his side, breathing out slowly.

The ringing in his head got worse and his chest grew tight, his breathing shallow. He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. _Something’s wrong_.

“Hey!”

He turned, looked back to the dorm; the others were running out towards him. Movement caught his attention and, ignoring his team reaching him, he looked up. The Fool Shadow hung by two hands from the edge of the roof, holding over the building, knives catching the green light of the Dark Hour grotesquely.

It was, oddly, bigger than he remembered.

“Arisato,” Mitsuru called, “Are you okay?”

Wordlessly, he pointed up.

The others turned.

“Akihiko?” Mitsuru asked, voice strained, “Is that what you saw?”

Akihiko nodded. “That’s the one.”

“It’s huge,” Yukari muttered in shock.

“It’s going to drop,” Minato warned.

True to his prediction, the Fool released its grip, falling easily to street level. It turned to face them, knives clicking together as it moved, mask cocking to one side.

Minato held Mitsuru’s sword back out to her. “Think you need this more than I do,” he said, other hand tightening around Yukari’s stolen Evoker.

Mitsuru took it from him without complaint, staring thin-lipped and intense at the Shadow.

There was a second of stillness, the four of them staring across at the Shadow, then it surged towards them. Minato immediately raised his Evoker in response, calling Orpheus and his fire. He missed the result.

The ringing in his ears built to piercing white noise, making him so dizzy the whole world swam out of focus. He stumbled, hand spasming around the Evoker, barely managing to keep hold. Tried to breathe and couldn’t.

Something was wrong. Something was _wrong_ , deeply and intensely and getting worse. He focused inward for a second, on where Orpheus rested with his other Persona and felt his whole body freeze in horror.

Orpheus had been, was supposed to be, a bright, clean burn, the first, comforting spark he’d ever awoken. Right now instead, Orpheus was coal-fire and smoke; almost a rot, something sour spreading out from where the Persona rested. Orpheus was listening, but he could tell the Persona didn’t want to; was pulling back at his every order until something in him started to strain beneath it. All that power Orpheus had, slowly starting to backlash.

 _Why?_ He wondered wildly. Some part of him he refused to look at directly, at all, feared he already knew exactly why.

No time, he thought. Deal with it _~~never~~ _later.

Minato allowed himself half a second to panic. Then he swallowed it down, bulled through the dizziness until his eyes focused on the Shadow again. His ears were still ringing, and his chest was tight enough he couldn’t breathe correctly. He ignored it.

Polydeuces circled the Fool briefly, thunder crashing down. Minato squinted through the glare as Mitsuru raced forward, rapier slashing through the many limbs and hands, followed by arrows. Knives clattered to the ground as the girls worked.

The arrows stopped. Minato glanced over at Yukari, saw her frozen still reaching for her empty quiver.

Mitsuru dodged around the remaining daggers, sword still dancing; then she stumbled, injured leg giving out. A second, where Mitsuru tilted, almost caught her balance, then fell.

Akihiko ran forward towards her, Polydeuces already attacking, attempting to distract the Shadow.

Minato raised his Evoker, not quite squeezing the trigger. Simply reaching for Orpheus made cold sweat break out, sickness pooling at the bottom of his throat until he thought he might throw up. He couldn’t summon Orpheus; he didn’t know what would happen on a fourth summon, but he knew it would be bad, and the others were in too rough a shape to manage if he was incapaticated. 

He moved on, brushed against Messiah, then shied away in numb fear. If Orpheus was a spark, Messiah was a supernova. And if Orpheus made him sick--

He didn’t know what was wrong ( _ ~~liar~~_ ), but oh, he knew summoning Messiah would be beyond a bad idea.

He pressed the Evoker harder into his skin, pulled the trigger. “Thanatos!” he called, and almost wanted to sob when the Persona came easy, power a dark, cool wash across his senses. 

“That’s not the same Persona,” Yukari said in quiet disbelief, staring bug-eyed at him.

Thanatos mirrored Polydeuces on the other side of the Shadow, long sword pinning three arms to the ground. Then Thanatos reached forward, grasped the Shadow’s mask and the hand holding it, and began to pull. 

There was an unearthly shriek, then the whole Shadow ripped in two.

Everything went abruptly quiet.

Minato let his arm fall, staring at where Thanatos was slowly fading away. The other three were watching him, staring openly. “What was that?” Akihiko demanded.

He couldn’t answer.

He couldn’t breathe right, Orpheus’ coal burn filling his chest and fading too slow, making his vision spot. There was an odd, numb tingling in his fingertips. 

He blinked, hoping it would chase away the spots, and found it just made things worse. The world swam uneasily, doubling the illness he felt. He blinked again, and it took much too much effort to actually force his eyes back open. He managed a gasping breath to warn, “I’m going to pass out.”

And then he stopped fighting his body’s collapse and dropped into darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> story title from "My Friends" by Oh Wonder


End file.
